


Safer in the Dark

by Goldburn



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Troll Cameos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:36:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldburn/pseuds/Goldburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pilot Chapter!</p><p>Hopefully, if this gets more popular, I will write more so that the story can actually develop.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

* * *

 

“Dude, just do it."

"Fuck you, it isn't that easy."

"Yes it is, just go up to him and put on your best Vantas swagger."

"Fuck you too, Strider."

Karkat swiped his change from the counter as he paid, grabbing his food and turning on his heel to walk away as fast as he could, not caring if his friends were following or not. He knew they were, they always do, never missing any chances to give him a hard time about everything and anything. Using their long legs to their advantage, they catch up to him quickly, matching his stride as he made his way across the food court. Karkat could hear them sniggering between themselves, and he scowled as he sat down at a vacant table. 

Karkat had agreed to come out with them to the mall because, hey, why not? He hasn’t gotten out in a while, what with unpacking into his new apartment and trying to find a job. His new roommate Sollux, one of the douche bags he came out with, sat himself down in front of him and flashed him a smile. Sollux had the misfortune to be born with a slightly forked tongue, giving him lisp.  

“It isn’t that hard to get someone’s number,” Sollux lisped, “and he already knows who you are, he won’t care.”

“But coming out to see him at work _just_ to get his number? That’s not fucking normal.”

The other douche bag, Dave, mumbled with a mouthful of food. “Just say you were here to look for a job, saw him working, and then casually say that you don’t have his number.”

“Egbert is one of those people who are totally ignorant of everything,” Sollux added in, before stealing one of Karkat's fries.

“He won’t suspect a thing.”

Karkat let out an exasperated sigh before looking over to the pizza joint. Running the cash register was John Egbert, a 22 year old he was introduced to by Dave about three months ago. Apparently Dave had grown up with him, and they had a thing for a while, but it didn’t really work out as planned. Dave didn’t give any more detail than that, hiding behind his shades like always.

Something must have happened in those three months that got Karkat trapped in John’s web, but even he doesn’t have a fucking clue how. Dave concluded for him that it was his dorky disposition; even Vriska had fallen for his stupidly adorable face.

He watched John work behind the counter for a few seconds before turning to face two cocky faces, both suggestively wiggling there eyebrows.

“What?” He growled.

“You were totally checking him out,” Dave said.

“Got a problem with that, fuckass?”

“What? No, I would never have a problem with scoping out of hot pieces of tail. I mean, damn, look at the booty. Can you see it Sollux?”

Sollux turns his head to the direction Dave was motioning, seeing John bent over to pick up some boxes off the floor. “I can see the booty, Dave,” he replies, “and damn, Karkat, get on that.”

Karkat rolls his eyes at him. “That’s what I’m trying to do, genius.”

Sollux sniggered, before taking another one of his fries. “Go on then, dude. Dave and I will hold down the fort while you go try to get Egbert’s number.”

“Operation Booty,” Dave adds in, taking another bite of burger.

Karkat scowl at them again, before stalking off away from the table. Stupid best friends and there fucking ability to make you feel like a coward. Those bastards.

 As Karkat got closer, he started to get nervous, shoving his hands into his pockets as he approached the pizza stand. There’s only one person waiting in line for their pizza, and John is just standing around doing nothing. Oh god, even when he’s doing nothing he’s still cute. Karkat’s face starts to burn as he thinks about his dorky smile, and he shakes the thought away and tries to calm down. What’s the worse John can do? Gnaw him to death with his prominent front teeth? Talk about his shitty movies, or even Nicholas Cage?

He lets out a breath. John is nothing to get nervous about; he liked the ghost buster movies for godsake. He is too dorky to function, so Karkat’s probably doing him a favour by asking for his number? Yea, that’s it, doing him a favour.

“Hi Karkat!”

He wakes up from his thoughts to see John waving at him, smiling. He’s wearing a uniform, a hat and shirt that have ‘PIZZA PALACE’ scrawled across them in big block letters, and just seeing him like that makes Karkat’s face burn again. Who was he kidding, he’s a fucking idiot for thinking you he was doing John a favour. He was just being stupid and delusional and trying to think of an excuse to why he was doing this in the first place, but he already know why he’s doing this because, oh yea, Johns hot.

Getting his fucking number is a necessity.

“Uh, hey John, what’s, uh, going on?” He says back. _Smooth one, Casanova_ , he hears strider say in his head. Karkat leaves a mental reminder to take a toaster in the bathtub once he’s home.

“Well, not much really, I’m working at the moment. It’s kinda boring, but at least I’m getting paid to stand around and do basically nothing. So, why are you hear Karkat? Do you wanna buy a pizza?”

“Well, uh –,” Karkat starts to say, but he’s cut off when there’s a shout from the back telling John that the costumers pizza is ready.

Karkat had completely forgotten about the random costumer, and he looks around to find that he’s only 2 metres away from him. He’s looking at you, slowly shaking his head, watching the train wreck you call being suave. Quickly flipping him off, Karkat shoves his hand back into his pocket as John returns with his pizza.

“Here you go, sir,” he says, smiling.

The man gives his thanks, before giving you a look and walking away. _Smug, long haired douche,_ you think. _What does he even know about getting some hot tail?_

Karkat continues to watch as the man joins up with a short brunette, her jeans showing off her ass. His eyes go wide. _Shit._

Hearing a cough, Karkat turns around to see john turns staring at him, leaning over the counter with his head in his palm. He was smiling, patiently waiting for his attention again. Karkat could see down Johns shirt and peer at his bare chest. _Double shit._

“You were saying?”

You swallow. You can do this, Operation Booty is a go.

“Well,” Karkat starts, “I just moved in recently with Sollux, so I was looking for a job to pay rent -”

“You’re looking for a job? That’s great!” John says, interrupting him. He looks ecstatic, bouncing up and down slightly, like an excited puppy. “You can work here with me!”

Karkat blinks. “John, no fucking offence, but this place is shitty.”

He pouts at him. “No it’s not, it’s great.”

“You literally just said five fucking seconds ago that it was boring working for this place, and I can practically smell the Grease irradiating from whatever shithole is back behind the counter. I feel like just looking at this place will give me an outbreak of terrible acne, and not to mention that just a glimpse at that stupid ass outfit you’re wearing makes me feel dirty, and not even in a good way. Seriously, John, I thought you had some fucking dignity when it came to shit like this. This whole place looks absolutely terrible, the fucking name speaks for itself.”

“Well _excuse_ you,” John huffed, pushing himself up from the counter and folding his arms, “I think that this place is great, and since that you haven’t actually worked here you can’t say anything bad about it. How can you be so judgemental about something you haven’t even tried before? That really closed minded of you Karkat.”

Growling, Karkat pulls one hand out of his pocket and run it through his hair. “No matter what you say, Egbert, I'm never going to work here. Working in a place swimming in grease is not my first preference, believe it or not.”

“Then what is your first preference?”

This makes him pause. “Working in a bookstore or a library would be the greatest miracle in the world.” Something inside of him flinches and aches when he says _miracle_ , but he pushes it aside. Now is not the time for sentiments, now is the time to focus on the task at hand.

“But not many are hiring, which is just my fucking luck.”

“That’s too bad, Karkat,” John says, nodding. “I guess you have no other choice _but_ to work here now, seeming as no one else is hiring.”

Karkat bares his teeth, preparing to retort when an idea jumps into his head. Sometimes he just shocks himself with his ability to improvise.

“Listen, Egbert, working here would be a fucking last resort, do you hear me? How about this, if I don’t find a job in the next week or so, I’ll text you begging for forgiveness and the absolute golden opportunity to work for this comical shit stain of a place you call great.”

John claps his hands, laughing. “That sounds like a good idea!”

There’s a pause in conversation in which Karkat spends shuffling back and forth on his feet, his eyes flickering from Johns face to the floor and back. “So… Can I have your number?”

“Huh?”

“Give me your phone number, shit stain! What is this, some awkward tween advance?”

Karkat catches his breath, his face heating. _  
_

John covers his mouth with his hand before outright laughing in Karkat’s face. Face flushing deeper, Karkat shoves his hands deeper into his pockets and turns his head, watching John giggle to himself and dig around for a pen from the corner of his eye.

Inwardly, Karkat smiles triumphantly. He had succeeded in getting John’s number, and John is none the wiser of his actual intent. _You are a genius_ , _Karkat, you’ll be taking Johns ass into the bathtub instead of the toaster now._

Realising that this ego lifting mood will instantly change once he does something stupid (like he always does), Karkat makes sure to relish in the moment before focusing back on John, who at the moment had pulled out his phone and is writing his number on a piece of paper. Quickly turning around, he catches a glimpse of Dave giving him a thumbs up, and Sollux continually eating your food. That fucker.

“Here you go.”

Karkat turns back around quickly to see John handing him a piece of paper, and he takes it from him as casually as he possibly could. He looks at it, seeing a succession of numbers scrawled down as well as a chum handle, and Karkat high fives himself in his head.

As he walks away, as purposefully as he could, Dave and Sollux are looking at him with expectant faces.

“Operation Booty was a success,” Karkat says smugly, waving the piece of paper around. The corner of Dave’s mouth twitches while Sollux huffs a laugh.

“You may now all suck my dick.”

“Maybe you can suck Johns dick.” Sollux replies, finishing off Karkat's food. Whatever, he wasn’t going to eat anyway.

“I’ll teach you the way he likes it.” Dave chimes in, and Karkat falters.

“I'm going to murder you.”

  

After another hour or so of walking around the mall, Karkat and Sollux wave a goodbye to Dave as he stalks off down the road to the nearest bus stop. Thank god that the insufferable prick is gone, he was going to stab him with his own shades if he made one more joke about John. In turn, Sollux pulls his car up while Karkat rides shotgun, turning out of the parking lot and driving down the busy streets.

“Do you think we should’ve given Dave a ride home?” Sollux asks, glancing over at him.

“No, fuck him,” Karkat replies, leaning on his hand and looking out of the window. He watches as cars pass, the fleeting glimpses of pedestrians, and he keeps watching even when he thinks you see a tall, tousled-haired figure.

Sollux shakes his head slightly. “Sheesh, kk, chill. Why you always gotta be so grumpy all the time.”

Karkat mumbles a threat or two, a retaliation maybe, he can’t quite remember on account of the fact that his mind is elsewhere. He’s tired and crabby, like he usually is, and he currently wishes that he didn’t have insomnia so bad.

But he’s also thankful for it as it keeps the restless nightmares away.

Karkat’s ears registers that Sollux is talking, but his mind can’t make sense of them. He snaps back into clarity to catch Sollux saying that, “ – Sometimes shit just doesn’t go your way, and then sometimes it does.” Understanding that he’s talking about Karkat’s problems, he growls a little in response, not wanting to talk about the situation in its entirety.

“Like getting Egbert’s number,” He lisps, smiling at him. “Your one step closer, kk.”

“This,” Karkat exclaims, raising his phone into the air that now has Johns number punched into it, “Is the key to unlocking Egbert’s pants.”

Sollux sniggers again, his eyes looking through his multi-coloured glasses out onto the road, pulling the steering wheel left into a suburban area. Sollux has always been strange, to the way he dresses to how he holds himself. Karkat likes to think it’s because he was graced with the misfortune to not care about what people think, but then again Karkat knows he does. He wears different coloured shoes, one white, one black, and has a habit of doing things in two’s. If it wasn’t for his girlfriend, Karkat would think that these habits and his bipolar swings would’ve killed him by now.

“You know what?” Sollux says, glancing over to him again. Karkat tears his eyes away from the window to pay attention to him.

“We should have a party to celebrate.”

He snorts a laugh at Sollux.

“I'm being serious KK. New apartment, Egbert’s number, year out of rehab, it’s a turning of a new leaf for you.”

 “Who do we even know that doesn’t piss us both off would be worth inviting to a party?”

“TZ, AA, AT, VK.”

“Fuck Terezi man, she’d waltz into our apartment and immediately go cop mode and try to confiscate all of our shit.”

“I don’t think she’s allowed to do that, especially since I'm her ‘ _partner in justice_ ’, and all that other random bullshit that escapes her mouth.”

Karkat doesn’t respond, and he lets the radio fill the silence.

“And if we invite AT,” He says slowly, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “we can invite GZ too…”

Bristling, Karkat snaps his head to look at Sollux in the driver’s seat. He was wearing a look of caution on his face, as if testing the waters.

“That,” He almost shouts, “Has got to be the stupidest fucking idea _ever.”_

Sollux continues. “You are both on to the road of recovery, so I think, since it’s been a little over a year now, that maybe you guys should work this shit out.”

“There’s nothing to work out!”

Karkat is definitely shouting now, Sollux’s idiotic face working him into a rage. He doesn’t respond. For what seems like a long time, both of them sit in the radio filled silence, both lost in thought. Karkat thought about what happened, how it began and how it ended. How, maybe, it shouldn’t have happened at all.

“Why would you want to celebrate the turning of a new leaf, if he was the reason the old life was dead?”

Sollux doesn’t miss a beat. “AT said he’s changed.”

“He only said that cause he’s fucking him,” Karkat says, spitting venom.

Pulling into the parking lot of your apartment complex, Sollux cuts off the engine into a deafening silence. No one makes a move to get out of the car. Karkat’s starting to get sick of the long pause, almost as much as he’s getting sick of himself.

Finally, Sollux turns to him.

“You should at least try.”

Getting out of the car, Karkat turns around to face Sollux. 

“I’m done with him.”

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"Dude, just do it."

"Fuck you, it isn't that easy."

You don’t stop grinning as you lean against the wall, hunched over, hands in your jacket. The chill air nips at your skin, and your breath clouds out as you exhale. You find that these particular evenings are fun, almost enjoyable, but the people that greet you kill your good vibes. They’re all twitchy and nervous, not yet received their daily buzz or gate way experience yet, and it’s almost comical in the way they practically throw themselves at your feet. 

You can’t stand costumers, at least when you’re sober, but lucky for them you’ve already lit up recently to release some stress. 

But why is a chill brother like yourself gettin’ all stressed up about? Well, today was the mother fuckin’ day that one of his best bros up and moved in with some guy who wears multi-coloured glasses and dresses like a freak and is still able to look at himself in the morning. Not that there’s anything wrong with expressing yourself like that. Nothing at all.  
Why the fuck should you care? Not like you can do anything about it, since maybe karkat isn’t your best bro anymore after a year. Tav was the one who mentioned it to you fleetingly in conversation, and you had brushed it off, faked a smile like you usually does. You find yourself smiling less and less. But it’s nothing, to you, at least. 

Nothing at all, you repeat to yourself again, grimacing.

You zone back in to your current situation to lock eyes with the man in front of you.   
“It is that easy,” you reply back, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a joint. The man grimaces back at you, and then back at the needle in his hand. You put on a grin while he lights his roach, ignoring the sounds of a train rattling overhead. Your boss had stationed you in a less frequented subway tunnel, one where you knew the crack heads and drug crazed people roamed, where they slept in filth and where almost always in complete darkness. Sometimes wannabes and first timers wander on down, like the fucker you’re dealing with right now who decided shooting up was a great introduction to getting mother fucking off the wall. Why? You have no idea, but then again you don’t actually care about the decisions people make with their lives.

Taking a drag, you look over to the man again. He’s still fidgeting with the needle in his hand, frowning down at it.  
“If you’re gonna pussy out, give us back the shot and fuck off.”

“’Ain’t gonna pussy out,” He says defensively, clutching the needle tighter and blowing a purple streak of hair out of his face. “Just don’t know how to continue, that’s all.”  
This guy is really bringing you down right now, with his pussy ass all ruinin’ your mood. You grin darkly to yourself, the sudden compulsion to help a brother out in his time of need over coming you, and you breathe in deeply of your joint before hanging it in the corner of your mouth. You haven’t done this shit in a long time, but that doesn't mean you haven’t forgotten about how to start.

Pushing quickly off the wall, the costumer in front of you flinches. Even hunched over, you’re still taller than him by a head, and you use this to your advantage. Looking through your hair, you grin at him, showing him your stained teeth.

“Man, this shit couldn’t get any simpler if a child did it.” You say, taking hold of his arm as gently as possible and rolling up his sleeve. He flinches at your touch, but he lets you grab him and let you work your miracles. 

“Seriously, it’s fucked that you haven’t worked this shit out yet. But I understand brother, first time chills man fucks with your mind.” The whole time you’re talking, the man is looking at you wide eyed as you work, nodding with you every now and then. “Like this one time, fuck you wouldn't believe, I saw the miracles of the world just unfold in front of me –,” you start undoing his belt with your hand while your gripping his wrist tightly with the other,“ – and it was almost like I was being born again, like a mother fuckin’ rush, man you could not believe – “, you tug off his belt, wrapping it tightly around his bicep. He sucks in air as it pinches his skin, but he doesn't comment. Your teeth are still bared while you turn up his arm, gently coaxing the needle from his grip. While the man shakes nervously, you continue talking, understanding now that you’re just completely talking out of your ass now, but of course he doesn't know that. You faintly remember your experiences while on heroine, but damn if it wasn't kinda like you’re describing. You start wondering about why he has a belt in the first place, seeming as he’s wearing skinny jeans. In fact his whole get up seemed a little bit to flash for the underground. 

“ - , like popping your cherry for the first time, but ten times are greater.” You punctuating your sentence with a flick to the tip of the needle, you then begin to rub the man’s arm for a few seconds to find a vain. 

“You have popped your cherry before, right?” you asked, staring straight into your costumers eyes. His face has gone slightly pale, but he’s bearing a brave face which you could get around to respecting.

If, you know, he wasn’t dress like a faggot. 

He swallows. “Yea, of course I have.”

You laugh, rubbing your thumb up his forearm now to bring up the vain more, but your slow down and trail it up his arm as suggestively as possible before winking at him. 

“If you’re lying to a brother, I could always help out a mother fucker out in more wicked ways than one,” you tease. 

He blinks at you, taken aback, before scowling.

“Just fuckin’ do it.” 

Flashing him a grin, you hold his arm steady while you push the needle under his skin into the vain you found, taking another drag while you depress the plunger. He bites his lip while you pull the needle back out, and you carelessly toss the syringe towards the closest trashcan. You hear it shatter as you undo the belt, and the man lets out a suppressed sigh.

“Give it a minute before it kicks in, bro.” You say, as he relaxes against the tunnel wall. His eyes roll up while another train goes past overhead.

You steady him as he slips to the ground, his head lolling back and hitting the wall. You let out a small giggle before gently tugging his wallet from his pocket. Taking the money he owes you, and a few bucks extra for yourself, you drag him over to a corner. He goes through filth and god knows what, dirtying up his expensive looking clothes. Serves him right, dressing up in motherfucking Gucci and shit and coming down to the underground, not expecting looks or questions. Brother up and looks like a prostitute. 

You laugh to yourself, eyes becoming glazed over, distant. Let’s hope no one mistakes him as a passed out hooker and decide to have their way with him. Be a damn shame, losing a new costumer like him. You’re certain that place he’s chilling will be relatively safe. Nothing will happen to a guy with his belt off, lying in a cold, damp, dark train tunnel.

Nothing at all, you repeat to yourself. 

Turning on your heel, you start to navigate yourself out towards the street, your footsteps echoing off the walls and around your head. You approach a light source, grimacing at the harsh rays as your eyes adjust from the darkness to the sudden light. The hall way you emerge from connects to the central platforms, and people stare at you as you walk out onto platform 6. You don’t smile at the people watching to lighten the atmosphere, if anything you stare back, daring them to make a move. Heads turn away, opinions made, and they’ll try their hardest to avoid you at all costs. Long legs travel across from platform to platform, until finally you’re at the stairs, making your way out onto the streets and into daylight. You cover your eyes, the sun even more blinding. Staying underground for a long time was usually your thing, from dawn till dusk. Well it would be dawn till dusk if you’re sleeping patterns weren’t fucked up, staying up for as long as you can before going to sleep and waking up 7 hours later. Usually you wake up at 7pm, kicking the fucking miracles at home until 6 in the morning, and then heading off to your work.

Cars rush past you in a blur as you pull up your hood, walking home the way you always go, under the highway and through a park. The wind blows through the leaves of the trees as you walk, eerily silent, you footsteps sounding louder than usual. Reaching a suburban neighbourhood, you slow your long gait down, turning into the garden of the fourth house down.

It wasn’t a particularly great house. Decaying, falling apart, covered in ivy and other weeds growing up all over the house. The inside was significantly better, the scratched wooden floors bearing the only sign of age. Unlocking the door, you let yourself inside and lazily close the door behind you. 

First thing you do is turn off the lights. The darkness engulfs the front room of the house, eliciting a small bang and then a cry from the lounge. Walking in, you see someone lying underneath the coffee table, legs twitching. 

Smiling slightly, you sit down on the couch while you wait for the man to come out from under the table. Tavros slowly pulls himself up, cradling his head in his hands, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. 

“Why do you always turn off the lights?” He asked, grimacing at you.

“The lights are always too bright, burns my fucking eyes.”

“You were literally outside just a few seconds ago.”

“And it burned the whole way over, like a motherfucking itch that you can’t scratch cause it’ll make it worse.”

Tav gingerly touches his head, wincing, before turning back to you. “Uh, are you talking of your experience of some STD?”

You smile widens. Tavbro always was a bright spot in your life, being the adorable piece of shit he was. Leaning over, you fix his mess up mowhawk, being tousled in his near death experience. 

“Nah brother, I’d never go near some diseased fucker.” You pat his cheek before leaning back again, spreading out on the couch like a liquid, long limbs stretching out. “Why were you under the table Tavbro?”

He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dropped a Dorito.” You let out a laugh as Tav blushes, and he grabs the bowl of chips and walks away to the kitchen. You swing yourself back up onto your feet, following your bro, watching as he pours himself a drink. Grabbing yourself a beer, you lean against the counter as your eyes follow Tav around the kitchen. Either he’s making dinner, or preparing lunch, the time escaping your mind. Maybe its breakfast. You smile, and uncap the beer with your teeth before taking a swig. It makes you happy that your Tavbro is remembering that breakfast is the most motherfucking important meal of the day. 

Tav reaches for plates in the cupboard, flicking his gaze over you. “So, um, what do you want for dinner?”

Aw shit, so it isn’t the morning. “Did you have breakfast?” you ask with a frown. 

He blinks. “Uh, yea?”

“Nice.” 

Tavros pauses, looking at you, confused, before brushing the comment off. “What do you want for dinner?” He asks again. 

Pushing yourself off the wall, you grab Tav with your with a long arm and pull him in for a hug, sloshing some of your beer on the back of his shirt. “I’m chill with getting my snack on to whatever my Bro is gonna be cooking,” you say, planting a kiss on his forehead and then his mouth. He returns the hug and kiss, and you let go to sit down at the kitchen table. While you watch Tavbro work around the kitchen, preparing ingredients and preheating things and stirring things and cutting things, you lean on your head on your hand while you watch him work. Through beer, weed, and other miscellaneous drugs, no one has ever kept you as grounded as your mother fucking bro here. With an exception to your short, cranky, Ex-bro. He is a whole different thing entirely. If your Ex-bro were put on a scale between a feather to a mother fucking anchor, he would be mother fucking Jupiter of all things that is heavy and grounded. Speaking of course, of Jupiter’s mass as a weight to keep you mother fucking stuck on the ground good and tight.   
You knit your eyebrows together. 

Not that you ever listened to him the times you were together. Those were the days you were as high as motherfucking Jupiter. Feeling a pang in your chest, your scowl deepens. 

“Gamzee?”

Your brother comes to your rescue, rousing you out of your memories and back into the present. Tavros is holding two plates of something steamy and hot in his hands. You look at him and give him a small smile, moving off the table so he can put the plate down in front of you. Taking another swig, you watch him as he grabs you each a fork. Your bottle’s condensation chills your hand.

“Thanks, bro.”

Stabbing a carrot, you eat it slowly. Tav is still looking at you, concern over his face, and he slowly swallows a piece of chicken before asking, “Something wrong?”  
“It’s alright, Tav,” your all out of smiles now, “just thought about some stupid shit.”

Tav nodded slowly, eating another piece of chicken. The sound of clinking cutlery and the quiet strain of chairs filled the room. Relativley comfortable, but the air still thick.  
Tavros slowed his chewing, and, rather forcefully, said, “Sollux invited me to a party on Saturday.”

You falter, the food on the end of your fork forgotten for a second before you pop it into your mouth. Forcing yourself to chew slowly before answering, you words get stuck in your throat. You note that its Wednesday. Tav waits patiently for you to reply. 

“Was I …?”

He nods.

“Will …?"

He nods again.

You feel the pain in your chest return, and you clench the bottle so hard in your hand that you feel the blood struggle to reach your knuckles.

**Author's Note:**

> Pilot Chapter!
> 
> Hopefully, if this gets more popular, I will write more so that the story can actually develop.


End file.
